


Summer Rain

by Minka



Category: Jrock, the GazettE
Genre: #NotSponsored, Also this reads like a motivational Instagram feed, Alternate Universe, Fables - Freeform, I think Aoi is my spirit animal, It's sort of a worry, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Like I spend a looooot of time in his head in every fic, M/M, Magical, Romance, Satire, all the things that Minka usually hates, modern fairytale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-06 17:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minka/pseuds/Minka
Summary: Forced into a writer’s block hiatus, Crime-Noir author Shiroyama Yuu finds himself banished to a small fishing village deep in the mysterious Wakayama Prefecture.Surrounded by sacred mountains and Shinto shrines, and with no decent wine in sight, the last thing Aoi expected was to find a muse.  Especially not in the way of an enigmatic young man with an enchanting outlook on life and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.But as is the way with Aoi’s novels, he’s starting to discover that not everything is exactly as it seems…





	1. U Got the Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, this is pretty unexpected for me, but it was actually a hell of a lot of fun to do. Also, there’s a lot of me in Aoi, which is super odd. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Surprisingly none. Maybe I’m not well… Actually, I feel like I should give out a warning for ‘romance’ as we all know that’s not why you generally read my fics! Ha. I also name drop in this like Michael Cera at a Dave Franco party. 
> 
> Consider this the apology fic for everything I put you guys through in The Price of Spring.

 *****

  _And if I asked her now to stay_

_She’d politely smile and say “you must be joking”_

_But still I’m hoping_

_‘Cause she’s the water falling soft_

_Flowing through the roughened creases of my soul_

 

*****

 

_Go for a walk_ , they said.  _It would be fun_ , they said.  _Get some fresh air; see the mountains; marvel at the waterfall.  Clear your mind._  

 

Clearly, _they_ were trying to kill him. 

 

Aoi pressed his hands to his waist, feeling the heave of his ribs as he struggled to catch his breath.  He was sure that he’d never seen so many stairs in his entire life.  They seemed to stretch on forever, all uneven and covered in moss and sticks and general _nature_ and shit. 

 

He was going to die out here! 

 

He’d decided to play tourist this morning and managed to catch the bus from Kii-Katsuura station.  Or well, he caught the bus from the centre of the road in front of a souvenir shop that wasn’t near any bus or train station.  It was only after squinting at the LED kanji for a good minute that he was even remotely sure he was stepping onto the right vehicle.  Honestly, it had been confusing as hell and not only was he Japanese, but he was also from the area. 

 

Aoi pitied the poor foreign tourists who were left meandering around and looking lost with maps in their hands.

 

Still, it had been a lovely ride through small coastal towns before heading inland and starting the ascent towards the fabled Kumano Nachi Taisha.  He’d been told to get off at the Daimonzaka stop and make his way on foot up the side of the mountain to the main shrines.  It was meant to be an easy hike through giant trees and ancient bamboo forests that formed part of the official Kumano Kodo Pilgrimage trail. 

 

There was, in Aoi’s city-living, convenience-filled humble opinion, nothing easy about this hike. 

 

The stairs never seemed to end, and he wasn’t even near the shrines yet.  Once there he knew there was yet another steep climb through the old houses to the temples and what was meant to be the largest waterfall in Japan. 

 

It all sounded lovely – a scene out of a fairy-tale with hidden mountain temples overlooking sun-dappled valleys with views out to the sea beyond.  Of course, though, no one had ever mentioned the stairs.  Or they were mentioned in passing; a few stairs to climb, not the harsh truth that his Fitbit was already clocking sixty floors. 

 

To make matters worse, he was forced to watch in horror as a man a good thirty years his senior overtook him.  The geriatric old geezer waved at him once, said “Good morning” without the slightest hint of wheeze, and kept ascending the devastating climb. 

 

Aoi decided that he hated that old man. 

 

He also figured he should probably quit smoking. 

 

Groaning out loud, he rolled his eyes at the stupid shit he managed to get himself into while yanking his hair into a higher ponytail.  It was hot and it was sticky and honestly, all he wanted was a cigarette and a beer.  And to be back in Tokyo. 

 

As beautiful as all this nature was, there was certainly a feeling of banishment that went along with it.  They called it a ‘Writers Retreat’ but Aoi called it ‘Exile’.  Being cast out, extradited from his comfortable life and tossed aside into an area that was Japan’s version of social Siberia. 

 

Aoi’s manager did always say that he had a flair for the dramatic, and Aoi contemplated pulling out his phone and sending his thoughts to the man, just to get a reaction. 

 

After all, this entire ordeal had all started when the Powers That Be decided Aoi needed to add in some romance. 

 

“Even heroes need love,” they’d said while their fingers had flicked quickly across the Ipad screen.  It was too fast for them to be reading anything, and Aoi had flinched in his seat and struggled to keep his finger from raising up each time they passed a perfectly crafted cliff-hanger.  They weren’t paying attention! 

 

There was a part of Aoi that did concede that maybe they were right, though he, of course, never said that out loud.  It was book four now, and while his Private Investigator protagonist Sakoda Hiroki had been incredibly well received – especially considering all his often questionable ways – Aoi had read the reviews.  There were a few (okay, more than just a _few_ ) who seemed to think that Hiroki needed a love interest.  Someone to keep him on the straight and narrow.  Someone to patch him up and worry about him while he was out on the job.  Someone to breathe another layer of dimension into his perfectly (according to Aoi) created character. 

 

Others, well, they just thought that Hiroki needed to get laid because the poor bastard had been through a lot over the last few novels. 

 

“And while we love you and understand you and support you and all that stuff,” the woman off to the left had added, her hands flicking open with each word.  Aoi guessed it was meant to make her seem more sincere.  “Just make sure that it’s a chick he falls for.  Adult suspense readers aren’t looking for Boys Love.” 

 

That was their politically correct way of dealing with the fact that Aoi had been out and proud long before he’d ever started getting published.  It would have been a lot easier for all involved if he’d been satisfied writing cheap porn paperbacks targeted towards teenage girls and their often confusing fantasies, but Aoi had always known that he was meant for more than that. 

 

He didn’t want feminine characters winning over silent bad boys, or hosts in suits or butlers sword fighting in cages, the actions all filled with sexual innuendo.  No.  Aoi liked the darker side of life.  The wholly real things that went bump in the night.  Gangsters and shady deals, people in way over their heads and reluctant heroes struggling to keep back the tide of crime in cities made of violence. 

 

Romance – sex even – never really entered the grand picture he had plotted out in his mind. 

 

That, however, was all about to change.  When the Powers That Be of the publishing world told him he had to add romance, then he had to add romance.  There was no way of getting around it.  They’d tolerated his off-kilter novels this long (and ‘tolerated’ was a harsh word as Aoi was their best selling author) but now things needed to be fresh.  Or at least that’s what they said.  New life, new blood.  A new reason for Hiroki to keep fighting the good fight. 

 

So like every good author scrambling at the beck and call of their publishers, Aoi had agreed, taken back his USB draft and returned home with his mind baulking at the idea of re-writes. 

 

_The story was great,_ they said.  _Gritty crime at its best, and twists galore.  It just needs more woman_ , they’d said, and one specifically for Hiroki. 

 

How hard could it be, right?  Just make up a woman.  Throw her in and if Aoi needed too, he could pretend that she was a stunning blonde guy perfectly capable of stealing his heroes heart.  Think ‘he’ every time he typed ‘she’.  It was as simple as that.  Give her a name like Noriko, or Katsumi and throw her on in there.  But not in that damsel in distress sort of way, of course, but also not as a villain.  And of course, she shouldn’t be stronger than Hiroki because he was a hard-hitting Private Eye who knew the streets and had twenty years martial arts experience under his belt.  But then, oh god!  If she was too weak the feminists would complain that she was only there for the romance factor and that would no doubt taint all his reviews even more.  When those girls stormed Line and Twitter and Tumblr, things tended to get nightmarish, and fast!  

 

There was no room for a Home Maker in his yakuza fuelled Noir crime books, but Hiroki would never fall for a sex worker or some bimbo hooked on street drugs either.  A hostess with a heart of gold?  That was too trite, and certainly not what Hiroki needed. 

 

If he had to fall in love, then it had to be with someone worthy of his time, not some floozy in a cheap satin dress who lit other men’s cigarettes every night. 

 

She had to be perfect.  Someone smart and witty, cunning but honest, loyal and with a kind demeanour.  But strong-willed and not easily rattled.  She had to be chaste and virtuous in a sea of morally corrupt women, but Hiroki would never go for some blushing virginal child either.  She’d need a sense of humour that wasn’t dry or bitter, but maybe just a little teasing, and she’d be just as willing to get her hands dirty as talk Hiroki out of some of the reckless ways he chose to resolve situations.   

 

What in the world would a woman like that be doing in Hiroki’s world of disassembled bodies in dumpsters and sneaky Black Market deals?  

 

Setting aside, Aoi was sure that a person like that couldn’t even exist in real life. 

 

Aoi had calmly poured himself a drink, finished that, and then polished off the bottle all while googling ‘Female Japanese Names”. 

 

He had no clue where to start. 

 

The issue with Aoi was that he just didn’t understand the idea of romance for the sake of a plot.  Or, possibly even deeper, he just didn’t understand romance as a whole. 

 

He wasn’t damaged goods; there was no horrible, heartbreaking ex story that would make even the most emotional person stone cold and swear off people for life.  Aoi had dated, he’d fallen in and out of love and he’d had crushes like anyone else.  However, he was also just comfortable in himself.  He was fine alone, and not ‘fine’ as in ‘fyne’.  He was fine.  Good.  Happy.  Content and completely and honestly pleased with the life he’d created for himself. 

 

He didn’t need someone to justify his existence, or to base himself off; build himself around.  What Aoi needed, and by extension what Hiroki needed, was someone who would fit with Aoi.  Who would fill holes Aoi’s hadn’t even realised were there while allowing Aoi to do the same to them. 

 

It wasn’t about completing each other but expanding each other.  Finding the yin to his yang. 

 

All these thoughts had kept Aoi up at night as he pointlessly flicked through chapter after chapter.  She could be a coroner or a police analysis, but both felt so typical that Aoi wanted to poke his own eyes out with his chopsticks.  A reporter; too obvious.  A relation to one of the victims; been done to death.  The girl who makes Hiroki’s coffee; Aoi groaned and wondered if it was too late to switch to writing shitty yaoi porn after all. 

 

Nights turned into days, they blended into weeks and apparently Aoi looked like death the next time his manager saw him.  Uruha had grimaced and physically recoiled before asking if Aoi had been punched in the eyes followed quickly by a million questions about Hiroki’s lucky lady.  

 

After a rambling, disjointed rant that Aoi had apparently been holding in for a long time, Uruha had managed to find a glass worth of wine left over in Aoi’s fridge and had started straightening the empty bottles on the kitchen counter.  It had been somewhere around the ‘it’s been three weeks and I have nothing’ and the ‘can I drink that?’ question where Aoi had stolen the wine glass straight out of Uruha’s hand that his manager had picked up his phone and started furiously typing.

 

Before Aoi had really known what was going on, he’d been all but thrown on a Shinkansen with a ticket to Kii-Katsuura station and a scribbled note of an apartment rented in his name. 

 

“Take a break, get some fresh air.  Sea air!  Mountain air!  Just don’t get too close to the fish,” had been Uruha’s parting words before shoving him through the ticketing gate at Shinagawa station. 

 

And so here Aoi was.  Banished to the wilderness and told to get his shit together, all over a girl that didn’t even exist. 

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Aoi was man enough to admit when he was wrong, so while he was aching all over, it turned out that all the stairs had been worth it.  More than worth it.  The views were breathtaking and while the heat had been horrible to deal with, it meant that there was a clear, still sky.  Aoi could see all the way out to the harbour and the dotted islands beyond. 

 

The shrines were also stunning, and while Aoi had never been a religious man, he would be the first to admit that there was a sense of something magical and otherworldly hanging over the area.  Especially near the base of Nachi no Taki.  Aoi had never felt anything like it.  The staggering size of the trees dwarfed him and the temple platform.  The sound of the water crashing over the rocks and the spray of it on his face.  Everything was dark and damp, the stone of the tori gate was water streaked and the white and blue robes of the monks looked like waves in the wind.   

 

For a moment, Aoi felt like he was in a different world, one that was full of magic and myth and endless possibilities.    

 

He’d sat there for what felt like an eternity, perched on one of the low benches and watching tourists and pilgrims alike.  They all marvelled at the spectacle, their cameras flashing as incense smoke wafted through the trees.  There was power there, that was for sure, and while Aoi didn’t find the answers to his forced romance questions, he did find something else.  A sense of calm and insightful contemplation.  The idea that everything would work out alright and that answers were just around the corner. 

 

He’d left his spot and headed back to the main road, not even finding it in himself to complain about all the stairs.  One with the masses of tourists, he’d checked the bus departure times.  Half an hour to wait. 

 

And thus, after a long day, he found himself in a small store debating whether or not he wanted to buy a box of orange cookies. 

 

Aoi looked at the box, put it back down, picked up a tray of mochi and then quickly switched back to the cookies.  He’d done enough walking today that he was sure he could scoff them all and a few beers and still be winning the kilojoule war.  His purchase was packaged in a bag splashed with autumn leaves and, as always, sealed with washi tape and handed over with a bow. 

 

Aoi thanked the elderly woman and once again headed onto the street. 

 

“Oh my god!”  Aoi jumped at the sound of the loud exclamation off to his right, his head whipping around so fast that he was sure he’d end up with whiplash. 

 

Aoi wasn’t the type to get fans, or at least not ones that knew him by looks.  Sure, he had his fair share of weirdoes – they always flocked to the thriller writers – and he’d had a stalker or two, but most of it was anonymous mail and packages of raw meat sent to his publisher.  They’d never found where he lived or noticed him on the street.  He wasn’t a member of Arashi or anything like that. 

 

Still, when someone yelled those words out right near him, Aoi had a tendency to think that he should hang his head and try to make for the door as soon as possible.  Must have been a habit born from a few too many book signings. 

 

Before he could panic and put contingencies plans A through to C into action, the voice returned, clearly having noticed Aoi’s rather spectacular attempt to jump out of his own skin. 

 

“Oh, sorry for startling you!” the stranger said, “ I didn’t see you there and this is just _so_ good!”

 

Deciding that running wasn’t needed, nor advised after his horrible attempts at hiking, Aoi turned to see what the vocal man was ranting about from the shadow of the awning.  He stood out like a beacon of light even in the shade, and Aoi found it crazy that he hadn’t noticed him before.  Not that Aoi made a habit of gawking and checking out random strangers, but sometimes… well sometimes you just needed to appreciate people. 

 

There was a lot to value about this man and Aoi struggled to take everything in, not miss a thing and yet not come across as creepy all at the same time.  It was quite the feat, but Aoi managed to notice the other’s eyes first, then his perfect nose and delicate chin.  After that it was a seizure of perfection; blonde hair, small hands, short, younger (but not in a creepy way) petite, and skin so pale that it was hard to believe that he was truly Japanese.  His fashion sense was a little strange, consisting of an odd ensemble of mismatched clothing, some that looked a little too big for him. 

 

And then came the kicker.  The man smiled and Aoi was momentarily dazed. 

 

_His smile was like sunshine after the rain; the sort of light that broke open the clouds and…_

 

Aoi shook his head slightly and told himself to stop narrating everything in his head.  So, the guy had a nice smile.  Big deal.  So did a lot of people.  Lots of people had stunning smiles and bright eyes.  It was normal.  Common even.  Boring. 

 

Blinking in confusion, Aoi finally spied the soft serve ice-cream in the other’s hand and managed to finally put two and two together.  Though, to be honest, it probably only clicked since the man took another giant, very undainty, gulp off the top of the swirl. 

 

Call him crazy – and Aoi had long had his personal suspicions – but it made him smile back in return.  It was impossible not to. 

 

“Good huh?” Aoi laughed, “is it coffee flavoured?” 

 

The stranger shook his head, his stylish blonde hair flicking around his face in a way that made him look flustered and charmingly chaotic.  “Chocolate!  Who would have thought it would taste this amazing!” 

 

Aoi wanted to point out that chocolate generally tasted amazing, but he didn’t want to come across as snide or stuck up.  Maybe the man had just never had chocolate ice-cream before.  Maybe he was more of a strawberry guy usually, and thus this was a whole different experience for him.  A walk on the wild side that paid off. 

 

“Never really had a sweet tooth,” the man laughed.  Clearly, Aoi looked as dumbfounded as he felt.  “I’m too much of a carnivore so I tend to skip dessert.  But this is amazing.  You should try some!”  As if things couldn’t get any stranger, the unknown man held the ice cream out towards Aoi, clearly inviting him to take a lick. 

 

Aoi’s eyebrow shot up in silent question and his head tilted to the side. 

 

“Oh.  Right.  That’s strange.  Really strange.  Sorry about that.” The other brushed his actions off with a laugh and another smile while retracting his hand.  “Got a little excited there,” he explained. 

 

There was nothing that Aoi could conceivably do other than to smile and laugh back.  “It’s fine,” he assured.  “Though it must be really good.  Where did you get it from?” 

 

The young man took another slurp before pointing to a small food stall just across the road.  “There, though you’ll find most places sell ice cream in this heat.  But over there… that’s my favourite.” 

 

Aoi turned to look, seeing nothing more than a small cart with a portable soft serve machine.  There was a little old man leaning on the bench.  It all seemed normal and country cute.  That was until Aoi really looked at the store attendant.  The man was staring straight back at him, his eyes wrinkled slightly in what was clearly a silent question, bordering on an accusation.  If Aoi didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the look one would give a crazy person or the way one would look at a suspected thief.

 

Not knowing what else to do, Aoi smiled and offered the elder a little wave before turning back to his enchanting companion.  The blonde was busy polishing off the now soggy end of the cone and went so far as to lick his fingers clean before attacking them with a handful of paper napkins. 

 

“Well,” the shorter man said, his smile once again threatening to blind Aoi.  He was taking small steps backwards, retreating towards the end of the building and the curve of the mountain road beyond.  The waterfall was down that way, and Aoi was far too preoccupied with the man before him to even think about that natural beauty.  Or the painful climb.  The stranger continued, each word marked with a small step.  “Maybe I’ll see you around.” 

 

“I think I’d like that.”  The words were out of Aoi’s mouth before he even thought them over.  It was the honest truth.  He’d more than like that; hell, he _wanted_ that.  “Anyone who can find ice cream that amazing is worth running in to again.” 

 

The stranger smirked and Aoi saw nothing but teasing deviance there.  A pretty pink flushed his cheeks and his eyes seemed to dance and come alive the longer he maintained eye contact. 

 

“It’s a small town,” the man said.  He was still pacing backwards and Aoi wanted nothing more than to follow him.  But he was rooted to the spot, entranced by the mischief playing across the other’s features and the way he seemed intent to slowly disappear behind the corner of the building.  “You never know your luck.” 

 

And with that he was gone. 

 

The spell Aoi had fallen in to shattered around him, and he found himself shaking his head and blinking rapidly.  His eyes felt dry; he must have been staring like some creepy pervert. 

 

It only took a few steps to reach the corner, and Aoi didn’t really know why he rushed them.  At least that’s what he’d say.  “Oh, I was just going this way too.”  It was a great excuse for why he had the need to chase after the man.  He hadn’t even managed to ask for his name. 

 

Turning the corner, Aoi kept his face as casual as possible, not wanting the other man to get the wrong (or right) idea when they bumped into each other. The plan was ruined the moment Aoi turned the corner, his expression crumbling into one of confusion when he glanced down the narrow pathway. 

 

The other man was nowhere to be seen. 

 

Aoi looked around, turning on the spot as he tried to work out where the small man could have possibly gone.  There wasn’t an abundance of options short of sprinting across the road and disappearing into the trail towards the waterfall.  He clearly hadn’t gone the other way, and looking that way showed Aoi that the ice cream vendor was closing up shop remarkably early. 

 

Scratching the back of his head, Aoi slowly made his way to the bus stop, his mind struggling to understand what had just happened.   

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“So,” the voice started the moment Aoi answered his call.  Aoi rolled his eyes and opened the fridge door to peer inside as his manager launched in a rant without even the preamble of a ‘hello’. 

 

“How’s the fresh air treating you?  Nice down there?  Have you written anything yet?” 

 

Aoi was no hermit, despite what a lot of people thought about professional authors.  He enjoyed social situations, thrived with company and was in fact an excellent conversation artist.  That was, of course, with people who weren’t Uruha. 

 

HIs manager had a way of not just using run-on sentences, but also then running every sentence he’d ever thought about all in together, all at once.  It was word vomit, through and through. Aoi had once used that term to describe a character while also saying that they could talk under wet cement; Uruha had asked what Aoi had meant by that before asking how his breakfast was going and if he was planning on getting a bottle of champagne to celebrate. 

 

Thankfully Aoi hadn’t had to answer that initial question.    

 

It was much like this situation here.  The great thing about dealing with Uruha and his constantly wavering attention span was that Aoi was able to be pretty selective on what information he wanted to give away. 

 

“It’s nice down here,” he answered, choosing that instead of ‘No, I haven’t written a damn thing; it’s only been three days!’ It was also better than gushing about the blonde stranger he’d met who’d left him with a weird hankering for chocolate ice cream. 

 

The sound of furious typing was drifting through the phone and Aoi had to wonder if Uruha was capable of typing like a normal person.  It was always click, click, click aggressive space bar followed by the finalizing ping of the Enter key with him.  It made him always sound angry.

 

“And the apartment?  Is it okay?  They said that it had a good workspace and sea views.  They better not have lied to me.  If it’s no good I can still get you into one of the island hotels with the cave onsens and all that.” 

 

Deciding that the fridge was boring and knowing that his freezer was void of ice cream, Aoi closed the door and waited for his chance to speak. 

 

“The place is fine, Uruha,” he assured.  “Stop panicking.  There’s a good desk and a great kitchen.”  Aoi was thankful for that.  There really wasn’t many food options in town and even then, all of them involved fish.  Nachikatsuura was a one kombini sort of town.  One FamilyMart with an oddly large parking space and an oddly cheery cashier who asked if he wanted a points card every time he went in. 

 

“And the ocean views?  Do you have ocean views?”

 

As if to help prove his point, Aoi made his way through the small but well-designed apartment and opened up the door to the narrow balcony.  Almost immediately the sea breeze rushed in, the smell of salt and fish and an endless expanse of clean air mixing to create a scent that was pure ‘Ocean’. 

 

“It’s on the outskirts of town, so I have the ocean in front of me and forest behind me,” Aoi said honestly.  “You’ve done well, Uruha.  It’s perfect.”  _Apart from being in the middle of nowhere and me being in a mental state to actually need this_ , Aoi wanted to add. 

 

“Good!  Well then, if you’re happy and comfortable…”  there was another really violent smack of a keyboard key and Aoi took the pretty clear meaning behind it.  If he was happy and comfortable then he should be working on his own little 50 Shades of Grey insert. 

 

“Yes, Uruha.  I’m going to look over it all again tonight.” 

 

With just those words, Aoi felt his good mood start to falter. 

 


	2. Just fall in love with passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This (https://www.instagram.com/p/BdZHlQggggZ/?taken-by=inspiredwanderess) is where they are sitting and what they are seeing. That is my feet. :)
> 
> The lyrics of this chapter come from Right in the Night by Jam and Spoon, but the song frequently talked about is Fill me Up (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUzTN-qhJ9s) by Akanishi Jin. He is a musical genius and no one will convince me otherwise!
> 
> Also, I must say, this is probably my last Gaz fic. I'm just not in the fandom any more and haven't been for a long time, and while I LOOOVE this story and it must be told, I feel the crazy pull of other fandoms. I've avoided the MCU for almost 10 years, but now... well, if you stalk there, expect a huge thing to come soon. Think Cold War espionage mixed with Russian mythology and a sort of Indiana Jones/Atomic Blonde blend that's gonna blow minds just like A Dirty Carnival did...

_So fall in love with stories, fairy tales of truth_

_Innocence is part of what you lose with your youth_

_Show a little confidence, and show a little class_

_Don't kiss the past, the past ain't gonna last_

_Just fall in love with passion, fall in love with lust_

_Fall in love with all the things you're always dreaming of!_

 

*****

 

The problem with Writers Block was that it was always there.  At least that was the case with Aoi.  It didn’t just pop up and taunt him every time he sat down at his laptop.  It was there when he made his breakfast and brewed his coffee; it niggled at the back of his mind when he watched fisherman tend to their nets, or when he walked through the narrow, old streets of the seaside town. 

 

It was also there when he tired to sleep and it hunted him through his dreams. 

 

 _Write something_ , he screamed in his head.  _Find the words and fix it.  You don’t need a whole new story; just one character.  Slot her in there.  Just. Fucking. Write. Something._

 

He’d tried to sleep for hours, tossing and turning and sitting up to thump his pillow into shape as if it was the source of his problems. 

 

Glancing at the clock, he groaned as the numbered glowed three thirty in the morning. 

 

“Fuck it.” 

 

With a dramatic toss of his sheets, Aoi kicked his legs out from the western style bed and pushed himself to his feet.  There was a small headrush as the lack of sleep caught up with him, but after a moment he was shuffling towards the kitchen and, more importantly, the coffee machine. 

 

The best way to fight the inability to sleep was caffeine now, staying awake and active and then crashing twice as hard the following night. 

 

Aoi was a zombie as he opened his laptop and hit shuffle on his Morning Dance Music playlist on Spotify.  Akanishi Jin’s Fill Me Up was the song the program chose and Aoi decided that it was a good enough way to start off a dark morning while splashing milk into his coffee.  Another few shuffles and he was out on the balcony struggling to see anything in the darkened harbour. 

 

Sipping his coffee and watching the stillness of the docks had Aoi’s mind wandering.  It thought back to the meeting with his publishers.  He hated that and quickly pushed it from his mind and tried to think about the beauty of the waterfall and his adventures from two days before.  But instead of stunning trees and moss covered rocks, Aoi thought about smiles and golden hair and mismatched clothing and chocolate ice cream. 

 

Coffee finished, Aoi decided that the best thing he could do was go for a walk.  Get rid of some of his energy.  Expend himself so that he’d be dead tired and be able to get some proper sleep. 

 

The docks were starting to come alive by the time Aoi was dressed and walking along the planks.  Fishermen were nursing canned coffee and tying bandanas around their heads as they prepared for a morning of hard work.  Aoi wondered what it would be like to be them.  He’d never really done any job like that.  Nothing where he had to really break a sweat, unless he included stocking shelves in a Kombini when twenty-one and rottenly hungover. 

 

They all seemed happy, greeting each other with encouraging words and smiles aimed towards the sea.  Aoi bowed and muttered good morning to those that turned his way.  It was a different vibe than Tokyo; these people knew each other, grew up and become men together.  They worked together and probably sat around and shared sake together.  They were a family, yet they were also accommodating.  They didn’t look down on tourists or question why anyone would be there.  After all, their home was beautiful, and tourism money allowed them to sell their catches for a premium price. 

 

They greeted him with smiles and bows and Aoi did his best to keep up with he pleasantries while staying out of their way.  By the time he’d made it to the end of Hotel Urashima’s private pier, there were countless little fishing boats bobbing up and down in the water, slowly heading out towards the mouth of the bay and the deep sea beyond. 

 

He wandered the length of the pier, his hair licking his face in the early morning breeze.  There still wasn’t much light but his eyes had well and truly adjusted; at least that was the case when he was able to keep the ends of his hair out of them. 

 

The pier split into a giant T, and on the end that jutted into the middle of the bay sat a large orange painted light.  Aoi instantly made his way towards it before sinking down to sit on the floor, his back to the light and the town further behind.  The fishing boats were starting to disappear, lost to either the darkness, the horizon or in the maze of small rocky island that protected the wide bay. 

 

Aoi breathed in deep, his shoulders rising and falling and his head finally reclining comfortably against the large concrete base of the light.   Sure, sleeping was amazing, but this was also good.  The sea breeze helped to clear his mind, chasing away the nagging feeling of Writers Block and all the doubts and issues that came with it, and for a moment Aoi honestly only existed in this very moment.  It was just him, the sea, the scents and sounds of the water, and that strange tingling warmth of the sun approaching, but still being hidden from the eye. 

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

 

Aoi’s head whipped around, his hair blowing in front of his face and poking him in his eyes as they snapped open.  He knew that voice; it had had a similar effect on him once before. 

 

Looking up, he could see the shape of a petite though clearly masculine man highlighted in the soft light of the coming dawn.  Blonde hair glowed slightly and the writer in Aoi started sprouting words like ‘halo’ and ‘ethereal’. 

 

“Yeah, it is,” Aoi said, but even he was sketchy on what exactly he was talking about.  What exactly was beautiful. 

 

Knowing that he could see more of the man than the stranger could of him, Aoi started to push himself to his feet, intending to invite the other to sit with him.  At the same time, the other man started to duck down. 

 

“Oh, please, don’t get up!” the other shook his head with his customary laugh.  “I’m already half way down and if you get up then really I should get back up because if you bow than I shouldn’t be sitting and all this is making my knees hurt just thinking about it.”  Aoi blinked as the other man took a deep breath.  “So how about I just sit and we can take it from there?” 

 

Aoi laughed out loud at that, his head nodding before he remembered that they were still mostly in darkness.  “Please, yes, sit.”  Aoi scooted over a little, making room for the other man to lean against the light if he so chose. 

 

He didn’t, and that made Aoi pout ever so slightly. 

 

They sat in companionable silence for quite some time.  It was baffling how easy and comfortable the silence was, and yet Aoi’s mind couldn’t stop stressing and fantasizing about how perfect it was that the silence _was_ easy and comfortable.  It shouldn’t have existed between two perfect strangers, and yet here they were, both staring out towards the islands as the first touches of sunlight started streaking across the darkened sky. 

 

It was his companion who eventually broke the silence, his voice sounding like the morning light embodied.

 

“Everyone is so obsessed with sunsets.  It’s all about the perfect colours and the need to see the last rays of light to end a good day.”  He scrunched his face up a little and looked towards the horizon.  Aoi thought it was the cutest expression he’d ever seen.  “Not enough people appreciate the start, you know?  It’s all about the end to them, not the journey or the reason you set out in the first place.”  The younger man breathed in deep and turned his face towards the sky.  “But the first light of the day brings promise.  Magic.  The start of something new, unknown and wholly exciting!” 

 

Two things happened while the man talked.  The first was that he turned to look at Aoi, his eyes shining and dancing and looking so alive as he spoke of magic and the unknown.  The second thing was that Aoi realised he was gaping at the man and needed to forcefully tell himself to close his mouth and swallow. 

 

A third thing also happened and it was one that Aoi wasn’t sure he was ready to come to terms with just yet, even if it was true.  He was falling head over heels, hard and fast for this mysterious stranger. 

 

“I’m ranting like a crazy person, aren’t I?”

 

Aoi caught himself and shook his head, his pinky finger hooking some more hair out of his eyes as he did so.  “No!  Not at all.  It’s fine.  I, I actually feel the same way.”  It was hard not to say that he liked it when the other man ranted, or that he’d happily sit there and listen to him talk like that all day.  That would be a creepy thing to say though, so Aoi was more than thankful that he was able to prevent that from slipping out.

 

“Gathered as much,” the other nodded as if he was confirming things in his own mind.  “Since you’re sitting here at ass o’clock and all.  It was that or you were drunk and lost, so it was a pretty interesting gamble to make.”

 

Aoi laughed and wondered just how many drunk tourists had in fact sat in this same spot.  Surprisingly, he didn’t think it would be all that many.  It wasn’t like this was a party town; Aoi hadn’t even seen a single bar here.  It was a place of relaxation and reflection.

 

“So,” the other drew the word out, clearly thinking.  “Other than sunrises and new promises, what in the world bought you out at this time of morning.” 

 

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

 

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” the man repeated.  He sounded like some wizened old man and the thoughtful hum that followed had Aoi smiling.  “That’s a sign of an overburdened mind.”  His eyes flashed towards Aoi again and Aoi ‘s stupid, rebellious heart seemed to skip a beat.  “Is something troubling you?” 

 

How was Aoi supposed to answer that?  He wasn’t troubled, per say, just conflicted and _blocked_.  Creatively stunted.  Thinking about it, he did an excellent impersonation of a fish as he opened and closed his mouth and tried to work out what to actually say. 

 

“Come now, tell me your problems and perhaps you shall be saved,” the other said, his arms held up and out by his sides, his middle fingers and thumbs pressed together like some guru.  The act didn’t last long before the smaller man burst into a fit on hysterical giggles, his body doubling over and his arms hugging his middle as he struggled to get himself under control. 

 

There was no way to avoid joining in.  His laugh was infectious. 

 

“I hope you have all morning, because I tend to rant once I get started,” Aoi joked.  And morning it was.  The sun was steadily creeping up from behind the mountains, drenching the bay in a soft glow.  It was beautiful.  Beautiful in the way that it made his companions hair shine and his eyes glow and sparkle. 

 

Never in a million years did he expect the response he got.

 

“Well, I’m starving,” the younger man stated casually and with a decisive slap of his hands against his thighs.  “Buy me breakfast and my big old ears are all yours.” 

 

Shaking his head to try and recover from the shock, Aoi gawked at the stunning man beside him and tried to get his tongue to work.  “Okay.”  It was, quite possibly, one of the most inelegant things he’d ever said.  Instead of trying to form any more words, he instead pushed himself to his feet before offering his hand down to assist his companion. 

 

“My, my,” the man laughed, “aren’t you the gentleman!”  He took the offered hand and let Aoi pull him up to his feet.  The whole movement was insanely graceful, fluid like water and light as fog, and Aoi was once again completely shell-shocked just looking down at the guy.  The reluctance Aoi felt about letting go of the man’s hand was tangible. 

 

“I need to get your number,” Aoi blurted out. 

 

The blonde blinked at him, his head tilted backwards ever so slightly so that they could maintain eye contact even at their respectable distance.  Aoi wondered what it would be like to have the other right against him; how much would he need to tilt his head back to look up then? 

 

“My what?”

 

“Your number.  Your phone number,” Aoi clarified.  He really wasn’t doing so well on the conversational side this morning.  He blamed the lack of sleep, but really, deep down, he knew.  It was all because of how fast his heart was racing and how flustered he was around this stranger. 

 

“Oh!” the man exclaimed in understanding.  “Oh.  I don’t have one of those.”  The words were said with a smile and a shrug, as if it was normal in this day and age not to have a cell phone. 

 

“Really?”  Aoi wasn’t sure what to think.  Who didn’t have a phone?  No one, that’s who.  Maybe Aoi had been wrong all this time and there wasn’t anything simmering between them.  Maybe Aoi’s attraction was totally one sided and all in his head.  But even then, phone numbers exchanged between new friends was normal and sexual preferences or intent had nothing at all to do with it. 

 

“Yeah.”  The other continued.  “I guess I’m just not really all that much of a social creature.”  The man pushed hair out of his eyes before inclining his head towards the long walk back to town.  “Shall we?” 

 

Aoi nodded and fell into step with the shorter man.  Maybe he was a hermit.  That would at least explain his clothes.  He was looking a little more fashionable this morning, but there was still something a little off about his outfit.  As if he’d thrown it together in the dark after rummaging through mismatched suitcases from people slightly larger than him.  Chastising himself, Aoi had to consider what time they’d met and given the early hour, there was a high chance that was how his companion had picked his outfit.  Aoi was lucky.  Everything he owned fell into the black jeans and muted, though designer, t-shirts category.  It was impossible to make a bad combination. 

 

“Then can I get a name?” Aoi prodded as they walked. 

 

There was a strange, sly smile that crept across the other man’s face and Aoi was struck with just how mischievous those young features could become.  “ _A_ name?  Like, any name, or a _specific_ name?”  Clearly he was toying with Aoi, though Aoi gathered he deserved it. 

 

“Your name, of course.”

 

The other man laughed before nodding his head.  “Ruki.”  There were no formalities with it, no nice to meet you, or looking forward to getting to know you.  Just a single name. 

 

“Ruki,” Aoi repeated.  He liked it.  It was very unusual, but it was pleasant and rolled off the tongue easily.  “Shiroyama Yuu,” Aoi supplied, “though most people just call me Aoi for some strange reason.” 

 

“Matsumoto Takanori,” Ruki elaborated as they walked along, clearly fuelled on from Aoi’s introductions.  “But it’s just so stuffy and long.  Ta-ka-no-ri.  I’m normally half way out the door before someone even starts to get their mouth around the syllables.”

 

Aoi chuckled again, completely positive that he hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. 

 

“Well, Ruki.  Where do you want to eat?”

 

Ruki turned his head up towards the sky, his eyes pushing closed as he seemed to sniff the air.  His face scrunched up again as he repeated the action, all before turning to Aoi and peeking at him out of the corner of one eye.  “I’m not smelling any crispy bacon,” he teased.  Aoi was starting to realise that the man had a real taste for the theatrics and playful mischief.  “I don’t think anything’s going to be open.” 

 

“Hmmm, that could be a problem,” Aoi mused.  He was struggling to hold his own smirk as he played along with Ruki’s antics.  “Perhaps I can tempt you with delectable delicacies of a place called ‘FamilyMart’?”

 

“Ohhh, I hear they’re goood!” Ruki purred.  Aoi’s lips were starting to betray him, the corners tugging upwards in his need to laugh.  He managed to hold it together though, at least until Ruki let out a devious little cackle and a gave a playful skip. 

 

Aoi bit his lip and watched, completely entranced by Ruki’s attitude and carefree vibe.  He hadn’t even realised that he’d stopped and just stared until Ruki turned around, cocked his head to the side and called out, “are you coming?”

 

Aoi nodded and as he started closing the distance between them, he knew – in that very moment, and in that second of pure clarity – that he’d follow this Ruki anywhere. 

 

 

\------

 

“So, you’re an author struggling with rebellious muses.” 

 

The way Ruki said it made the problem sound so insignificant and unimportant that Aoi wanted to face plant himself into the plastic table.  Ruki did have the situation summed up perfectly there, which was annoying, but there was a lot more to it all than just that. 

 

Wasn’t there?

 

Maybe Ruki was right; Aoi stressing himself out over something that really was just as simple as a rebellious muse. 

 

Head to the side, Aoi watched as his companion opened the plastic packet that contained a just-as-plastic spoon.  For a man who’d claimed not to have much of a sweet tooth, Ruki certainly had some interesting choices in food.  He’d snagged a pizza sandwich, two sweetened, heated coffee cans, a tray of gyoza, a cream and custard filled doughnut, a curry _man_ and a parfait filled with strawberries, cream and sponge cake.  Aoi had laughed, citing that Ruki was an expensive breakfast date to which (thankfully) Ruki had lost himself in a fit of giggles. 

 

Aoi had spent the next three minutes kicking himself for his impetuous use of words. 

 

Being such a small town, the FamilyMart had a ‘dine in’ corner which was something that Aoi found to be a treat and a half.  In Tokyo you were lucky if you had a bench out the front where the ashtrays sat.  But not here.  It was a small air-conditioned room with a TV on one wall and a number of plastic tables and chairs scarred throughout.  There were even some bright, colourful characters on the walls and glass, clearly designed to entertain children. 

 

And Ruki, apparently, because he’d squeaked with amusement while studying a decal featuring a dog, a cat, a fox and a bird playing tea parties together before taking his seat. 

 

After a few moments of them both devouring the copious amounts of food they’d chosen, Ruki had somehow managed to get Aoi talking about why he was here. 

 

Normally Aoi didn’t like to talk about his issues with creativity and artistic blocks.  It was something he generally passed over with a sigh of frustration and a change of the subject.  With Uruha it was easy.  Hell, flick a light switch on and off a few times and Uruha was normally enchanted and wholly distracted.  But not Ruki and as Aoi unsuccessfully tried to steer the conversation in a different direction, he admitted to himself that he’d sort of always known that Ruki would be immovable once he put his mind to something. 

 

So Aoi had talked.  And talked.  And talked.  He told Ruki about his job, gushed about how much he loved writing and tried not to blow his own horn about sales.  He drank his coffee and opened his bottle of water, his mouth forming words that he’d clearly wanted to say for so long.  Aoi spoke about the need to add a love interest, and confided all his character creation fears in Ruki as he went. 

 

It took forever, but finally it led them to here, to Ruki summing Aoi’s seemingly endless rant up into a simple sentence and Aoi feeling a little like a fool despite Ruki’s encouraging looks.  Aoi was amazed at Ruki’s attention span; he’d listened to everything, making little understanding noises in the back of his throat as he ate and watched Aoi with a stunningly focused gaze. 

 

“It’s not like you need to rewrite the whole story.”  Ruki was waving his plastic spoon around as he spoke.  “The plot of the novel is good, right?  You just need to make room for this other plot point.”

 

“There’s just no room for romance.”  Aoi was whinging, he knew that, but his complaints were based on complete truth. 

 

Ruki took a sip of his second canned coffee and eyed Aoi with an air of distrust.  “Are you projecting?”  It was a question, at least, and not full accusation, but Aoi could read between the lines.  “Do _you_ have time for romance?”

 

Aoi thought that he’d find the question hard.  He thought that he’d freeze up, maybe even pause and not know what to say.  To look away and blush and mumble excuses.  Life was strange though, because he experienced none of that.  Instead he found himself looking Ruki directly in the eyes and saying something so truthful that it floored even him. 

 

“I’d make time for it.  For the right person.” 

 

Something flashed across Ruki’s face, an expression so fast and so unreadable that Aoi was quickly left wondering if he’d even seen anything at all.  Ruki did, however, smile slightly and turn his attention to his food. 

 

Aoi panicking, thinking that maybe he’d gone too far again.  _Breakfast date.  Finding time for romance._   He was coming on too strong and he kicked himself for it.  The last thing he wanted was to scare Ruki away. 

 

“So maybe that’s the problem,” Ruki finally said, and his tone was back to having that odd sagely sound to it, even as he dug into his half devoured, pre-packaged parfait.  “You’re so caught up in creating the right girl for this amazing hero of yours, that you’re getting lost in the forest of details.  Maybe you should give this guy a break.  Let him look at some trees.  Create a moment to set the scene of their meeting and then maybe his perfect match will appear from there.” 

 

Aoi was many things, but he was no fool. 

 

He was staring at Ruki like dribbling idiot and yet there wasn’t a single thing he could do to make himself stop.  Forget the other’s blindingly obvious physical attractiveness, because there was something else there as well.  This deep set understanding of the world and people.  Aoi felt like Ruki was reading him like a book, seeing all the pages he tried to keep hidden while translating ones that Aoi had never been able to understand himself. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Ruki was apologising and Aoi had to get his mind back into focus.  “That was a little rude.  I crossed a line.”

 

“NO!”  The response was a little louder than Aoi had anticipated and earned them a curious look from a pair of western backpackers eating sandwich triangles in the corner.  There was also the fact that Aoi had lost all sensible control over his body and his rebellious hand had shot out to cover Ruki’s. 

 

Speak first, Aoi told himself, remove hand later. 

 

“No, please don’t apologize.  You…” he finally removed his hand, though he hated himself for it the moment he did.  “You’re actually a genius!  You’re completely right.  The scene will create the character.”

 

If Ruki had suspected anything strange in Aoi’s lingering touch, he said nothing about it.  His face gave nothing away either, but that seemed to always be the case with him.  Unless he was plotting something playful. 

 

“Wise beyond my years,” Ruki preened, his hand patting his own cheek as if to indicate that he was incredibly well preserved.   

 

“So, that’s it, right?” Ruki continued, his hands moving up into that guru pose again.  “You’ve told me your problems and you have been saved!  Writers Block lifted; the Beast of Aoi’s Woe has been slain!” 

 

Ruki was so animated when he talked, so lively!  He made his words come alive even as his thoughts danced across his features.  It was amazing to watch. 

 

Aoi took a sip of water and marvelled at the excited, proud expression on his companions face.  “I wish it was that easy.”

 

As expected, that happiness disappeared with Aoi’s words, but Ruki didn’t look defeated.  Oh no.  he pouted a little, his lips pressing out in an adorable way, but his eyes!  Well, then shone with a determination and challenge.  “Why isn’t it?”

 

Aoi sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose.  “Maybe it’ll be easier now that you’ve given me that perfect start point.”  Praise where praise was due; Ruki could have possibly just saved his career here.  “But of late I’m just… struggling.  When I sit down and put my fingers to the keys…” Aoi held his hands up beside his shoulders and shrugged.  “Just… nothing comes out.  No words.  No inspiration.  No motivation.  I just sit there and stare at the wall until I crack and open Dailymotion.”

 

Ruki’s chin was resting in the palm of his hand now, and his eyes were so intently locked on Aoi that Aoi was starting to feel self-conscious.  It was like Ruki could see straight through him. 

 

“Is it motivation or inspiration that’s the problem?”

 

“I’m not so sure there’s a difference,” Aoi admitted after a few moments of silent contemplation.  “I mean, of course there is in most things, but with writing?  It’s all kind of the same.  I can be so inspired, but if the motivation isn’t there, then I’m just writing bland words on a page.  And if it’s the other way around?  Well, I can hardly construct a sentence that way.”

 

Ruki was playing with a wrapped set of wooden chopsticks, his short but slender fingers alternating between straightening the plastic and rolling the sticks across his knuckles.  It was mesmerizing. 

 

“These chopsticks,” Ruki said while turning them over again and holding each end with his index fingers and thumbs.  He offered Aoi a clear view of them, still sealed in their little packaging; still joined together at the top.  Aoi chanced a quick glance at Ruki, but the younger man was studying the utensils in his hand so Aoi begrudgingly did the same. 

 

“They were made in a paper recycling factory outside of Nagasaki,” Ruki went on.  Aoi wondered if they said that on the packet; otherwise it was a pretty odd fact to know. 

 

Ruki smiled to himself, breathing out a single beat chuckle as if recalling a distant yet fond memory.  “There’s this girl who works there, Aimi.  She wants to be an actress – poor thing – and she’s always dreaming of moving to Tokyo and making it big.  Being in something with Takeru Satoh, though mostly because he reminds her of Kamenashi Kazuya and she feels he’s a little too old to make her career on now. 

 

“But the thing with this girl is that she’s got a horrible poker face.  She can’t lie to save her life so her acting is terrible, but damn can she _sing_!  One of those voices that brings chills to your spine, ya know?  Makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.  She’s just so caught up in the want to be an actress that she’s never acknowledged the incredible gift she already has. 

 

“She likes to sing at work though, which is nice.  It lifts the mood and keeps the production line going.  Her favourite song at the moment is this thing by Akanishi Jin.  English thing about working all week and then the weekend finally being here, and wanting to love somebody.” 

 

Aoi wasn’t breathing.  He’d stopped thinking about how Ruki knew all this, stopped wondering about the details in the back of his mind, and he was simply lost in the moment.  In the image that Ruki painted, in the life of Aimi and that serendipitous feel of knowing that he’d been listening to that very song this morning and the suggested connections between.

 

Ruki hummed a few bars of it before turning the chopsticks over in his hands again and continuing. 

 

“And so she sings with a voice that most would kill for, and dreams of a life she’ll never have, and every day she goes to this factory and she feeds old chopsticks and bits of paper and cardboard through a machine, so that she can get paid and save for her ticket out of there.

 

“She got it too.  Three weeks ago, actually, she booked her ticket to Tokyo, packed her stuff into a three thousand yen Donki suitcase that’s likely to lose a wheel, and went and chased her dreams.  She poured her heart and soul into her work, knowing that one day it would pay off.  And you know what?  Maybe she’s going to make it big, maybe she’s going to hum the right tune in front of the right person while failing at her acting auditions, but she got there because she always did her best. 

 

“Did you notice how they had to open another box to get these for us?”  Aoi snapped his head up at the sudden question, nodding in reply.  The cashier had actually had to duck into the back room to get a fresh box of perfectly packaged chopsticks for them. 

 

“It was the last box she ever worked on.  And it’s filled with her _passion_ , and her _excitement_ , and her _nervousness_ ,” Ruki moved the chopsticks ever so slightly towards his ear in a way that had his fingers pressed against his own lips, “and the sound of her voice.”  He breathed in deep, his eyes closed as he listened to a song only he could hear.  “Her last day!  And this box has travelled all this way, and sat in a FamilyMart warehouse in Ise before being shipped here.  To this very shop.  So that you and I, two complete strangers, can sit here at a ridiculous time of the morning and share a meal together.” 

 

Ruki’s head was tilted to the side, the chopsticks once against being moved gently – respectfully – between his fingers.  There was awe and appreciation in his eyes as he looked at them.  Aoi watched as Ruki glanced at the untouched gyoza.  One hand detached itself from the chopsticks to reach down and push the tray away. 

 

Aoi knew, just knew, that he was in love the moment Ruki’s eyes flicked back up to meet his and he extended both hands out to air, the chopsticks resting on the open tips of his fingers.  Ruki’s’ head was ducked low, peering at Aoi across the palms of his hands as he invited Aoi to accept the offering. 

 

“If you treasure these; never break them, never use them, then you will always be a part of her.  Always be bound by luck and share the feelings that drive her.” 

 

Aoi was frozen.  He didn’t know what to do.  Ruki had stopped talking and was watching him with those hauntingly beautiful eyes, offering him this incredible gift of hope and inspiration and personal motivation and Aoi just couldn’t move.  Couldn’t do anything other than stare right back at the blonde. 

 

“Well, if you don’t want them,” Ruki huffed, his fingers starting to curl to push the chopsticks towards his palms. 

 

That got Aoi moving.  Like a spoilt child, Aoi’s hand shot out to grab the chopsticks before hugging them to his chest like the precious gift that they were.  “I want them!” he said, watching as Ruki sat back in his chair with a huge self-satisfied grin on his face. 

 

Aoi looked down at the chopsticks, shook his head and finally just laughed.  “That was totally a bullshit story!” he accused.  He was still holding them to his chest though, and he wasn’t so sure that he really wanted to dissect why that was. 

 

The accusation broke Ruki, and the other man erupted into a fit of giggles that managed to have his arms and legs moving in his mirth.  He was like a child one hiccup short of ending on the floor and rolling on his back with glee. 

 

“It was, but wasn’t it inspiring?”

 

Aoi was dumbfounded.  The idea that Ruki had just made all that up, just plucked those thoughts out of thin air all for the sake of pulling his leg was amazing. 

 

Oddly, there was still a part of him that was suspicious.  How had Ruki known to include that song?  That didn’t make sense.  Was it just a super happy coincidence, a trick of the universe that they both had it on their minds.  Or maybe it was more logical; maybe there was an answer and it was that Ruki was incredible observant.  Maybe Aoi had hummed it during the morning and Ruki had picked up on it.  Known it.  Understood the lyrics. 

 

Right now Aoi didn’t know what to believe, but he still found himself smiling and speaking all the same.

 

“ _You_ are inspiring.”

 

The smile that broke across Ruki’s face at that was far more dazzling than any sunrise or sunset that Aoi had ever seen.  “Yeah, well, I can’t fit in the pocket of your jacket, so you’re going to have to be happy with the chopsticks!” 

 

Aoi wasn’t so sure he could ever be happy with just those chopsticks, but he still tucked them gently into his pocket.  Even if the story was bullshit, it had still been Ruki to tell it, and cocky as the smaller man was, it really had been inspiring.  There was no way of ever knowing but maybe they would help.  Maybe when Aoi sat down and opened his laptop and put those utensils next to him all of Ruki’s creative energy would flow into him.  Fill him up, like their shared song stated. 

 

Ruki was slowly cleaning up the remanence of his meal, separating his trash with a look that clearly said he was beyond bewiled.  Aoi laughed again and reached out to take the bags and cans away from him, sorting it himself before standing and disposing of the items in the correct bin. 

 

Standing had been a horrible idea.  Ruki followed suit, as was expected, but it meant that it had bought their shared breakfast to a close.  Reluctantly, Aoi led the way out of the small eating area and held the main doors open for Ruki to pass through.  It was an automatic thing to do, but Aoi was sure that he saw a little glimmer of amusement in Ruki’s eyes as he shuffled past and made his way out into the carpark. 

 

The young man sure knew how to draw attention and Aoi was left telling himself not to drool as Ruki stretched while walking, his fingers interlocked as he stretched his arms above his head.  His hips moved from side to side before his arms rolled backwards, stretching out his shoulders with his face to the sky. 

 

They stopped just short of the road; the FamilyMart sat on an intersection.  One way led into town and the harbour, while the opposite direction headed inland towards the valleys and mountains of the temples.  Left took Aoi to his home, the road curving down to join the main promenade by the water, and right lead to more housing and a few of the cheaper hotels in the area. 

 

Crossroads.  Aoi thought that was slightly poetic as they both stood there.  Ruki was looking back at him with the same silence and thoughtful expression that Aoi wore, and Aoi really didn’t know what to do.  He knew what he _wanted_ to do.  He wanted to bundle Ruki and his silly oversized clothes up in his arms and kiss him senseless in the morning light.  He wanted to refuse to let the other leave, to invite him home; to eventually bring Ruki coffee as he sat on the small balcony, wrapped in one of Aoi’s jackets while watching the view Aoi did every day. 

 

But that was too much, too fast, and Aoi knew that.  He had no way of knowing if Ruki was even interested in him – at last not yet – and even if he was, Aoi was clearly skipping down the path of the future all too quickly. 

 

“Do you really have no phone number?” Aoi asked.  It was killing him that they were going to be leaving it like this.  “If you don’t ever want to see me again then I g-“

 

Aoi stopped talking, his eyes going wide as Ruki hushed him by pressing his fingertips to Aoi’s lips. 

 

“If I had a number I’d give it to you in an instant,” Ruki said.  Aoi considered himself to be a pretty good judge of character, and looking at Ruki there, he couldn’t see even the smallest hint of a lie. 

 

“Then meet me for lunch tomorrow.  Or dinner.”

 

Ruki chuckled and tilted his head to the side.  “But I don’t know what I’ll be doing tomorrow,” he reasoned. 

 

“You’ll be with me!”  It was as bold a statement as ever, but Aoi meant it.  He delivered it with a smile while his hand very tentatively reached out to brush Ruki’s side.  Feather light and skimming almost nothing but baggy cloth, but the intent was there.  There were some actions that took friendly interaction up to the level of sexual attraction, and this was certainly one of them.  If Ruki hadn’t guessed Aoi’s preferences and feelings by now, there was no way that he could remain oblivious as Aoi’s fingers curled to give his shirt a little tug. 

 

Breath caught in his throat, Aoi tried to prepare himself for anything.  For everything.  Back in the city, things like this were easier.  Hell, there was phone numbers involved, and drunken emails and stolen touches in dark clubs and moments that played out over weeks.  Alcohol and cigarettes and broken promises whispered into bedsheets.  Aoi was never this bold, not this early at least.  It was, after all, only the second time he’d met Ruki, and while fate had showered him with luck this morning, he wasn’t trusting enough to believe that a third chance encounter was possible. 

 

And so he’d taken the gamble and either Ruki would recoil and be disgusted, or he’d show some sort of interest. 

 

Standing there with his heart of his sleeve, Aoi knew that this was the bravest thing he’d ever done. 

 

Ever the surprising one, Ruki glanced down at that hand, smirked devilishly, and then stepped in closer.  Aoi’s breath caught in his throat and then Ruki’s hand was right there, curling his slim fingers around Aoi’s shoulder. 

 

Aoi’s hand had a mind on its own and affixed itself to Ruki’s waist.  Another tug and he was closer still. 

 

“We’re not all tortured writers who can keep our own schedules, Aoi.”  It was a letdown, but there was a sense of hope in those words as well.  Ruki supported that feeling by rising up on his toes, pressing a light kiss to Aoi’s cheek and subsequently blowing Aoi’s mind all at the same time.  “I know we’ll meet again,” Ruki said while lowering himself back down.  The way he slipped out of Aoi’s grip was sinful, and Aoi found himself licking his lips, fantasizing about how they’d taste after tasting Ruki. 

 

“Now go home and write!”  were Ruki’s parting words, said with a smirk over his shoulder as he turned toward down the road that lead out of town towards the shrines.  He was walking towards the still rising sun, the light illuminating his slender form and making his hair look like a burst of golden flame. 

 

Earlier, Aoi had decided that he’d follow Ruki anywhere.  That was still true and it was thrumming in his heart.  But now he knew something else.  As much as he would always follow, he also just hated watching Ruki walk away. 

 

 

One day I’ll write a fic where the soundtrack is mostly The Gazette.  It is, of course, not this day!  The Price of Spring was mostly Merry and Kpop.  A Dirty Carnival was mostly The Butterfly Effect and random VK songs.  This is turning into an odyssey of dance anthems from the 2000’s, Akanishi Jin, and random Buck-Tick B-sides…

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know why I don’t write Uruha all that much. Every time I do include him I end up fucking loving him to bits. I can just picture him being a really angry typer while juggling two phones and sipping coffee all at the same time. Probably barking at some poor intern to get him a box of Jugabees and a hangover cure as well. 
> 
> If you haven’t been to Nachikatsuura and its surrounding areas, and you’re ever planning a trip to Japan, you have to include it. It’s one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been (and I’ve been to a lot of places!) #notsponsored. Lol. Obviously, a lot of what Aoi is doing and going through here is stuff that I have done, only I didn’t meet the love of my life there. Damn. You can see a few photos up on my Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/inspiredwanderess/) 
> 
> Also, look! And this is no spoiler (because we all know that ice cream man is Ruki) here’s another chaptered fic where they meet in chapter 1! Chapter fucking ONE! I’m getting better at this. I feel like Dirty Carnival was like… chapter 7 or 8 before they actually met. Ha. I’m so proud of me. Go me!


End file.
